


Raindrops on Roses

by ShadowMystXII



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Domestic, Domestic Life at 221B Baker Street, F/M, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Thunder and Lightning, Thunderstorms, childhood fears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 04:18:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18336026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowMystXII/pseuds/ShadowMystXII
Summary: Childhood fears pick the worst times to come out of hiding, but luckily, with the right people around, they're easily dealt with





	Raindrops on Roses

**Author's Note:**

> once upon a time I was into the Sherlock fandom. not insanely deep but pretty well. my muse decided that since I was writing fanfic again, why not write some Sherlock too!!! 😑😑

Shaking the rain from his coat, Sherlock eyed the two figures in the center of the old couch. He cast a casual eye over James Watson’s sandy brown hair and standard wear of ratty jeans and trainers, but his brow arched sharply as he made out the head of rich brown locks swathed in a familiar blue blanket and pressed tight beneath the boy’s arm.

James glanced up and met his uncle’s calculating stare. Silently he cast a glance at the window behind his head and the storm growling outside. Immediately Sherlock nodded. He wasn’t one to really get why people could be scared of an easily explained nature phenomenon, but even he understood one couldn’t always reason away childhood fears.

The man quickly finished removing his sodden rain gear and quietly moved to join the pair. He gingerly settled himself on the other side of the blue lump, resting his arm along the back of the couch behind where he assumed the lump’s head was.

“Has she been like this the whole time?”

James shook his head. “No sir, only when the thunder really started going. She was fine while we were doing homework.”

Sherlock nodded. A roll of thunder rattled the building and the blue lump gave out a muffled hiss, hiding further under James’s arm. The detective sighed.

“Why don’t you go find Mrs. Hudson and see about getting some tea up here.”

James hesitated, worrying his bottom lip as he looked from the lump to Sherlock to the door. Sherlock nodded at the door and scooted closer to the lump.

“Nothing will befall her, you have my word.”

The boy bit his lip a little harder before nodding. He bent down to murmur to the blanket for a moment, Sherlock trying not to eavesdrop on the reassurances being given. Gently James extricated himself from his spot and vanished out into the stairwell.

Sherlock waited for the creaky footfalls to fade before he reached over and gently tapped the blanket lump’s head.

“You can come out now.”

The lump didn’t move.

“Chloe.”

A few more seconds passed before the blanket shifted. The visible brown hair moved to face him but the hair’s owner remained ensconced. Sherlock smiled a little and reached over with his free hand.

Gently he worked the blanket back until it revealed tight-closed eyes and a deeply frowning mouth in a pale, freckled face. Brushing some errant strands away, the man tenderly cupped the girl’s face, tilting it up towards him.

“Where oh where are those pretty eyes I know?”

Her face remained scrunched up in a frown, but slowly the girl’s eyes opened. The fierce blue gaze shifted as she blinked and refocused on Sherlock. He smiled.

“There’s my gorgeous girl.”

“Daddy.” The scowl melted into a half-sob as Chloe Hooper-Holmes ejected out of her blanket defenses and into her father’s arms.

Instinctually she folded up against his chest, hiding her face against him as she had done to James. Sherlock wound his arms tightly around the teenager’s trembling form, pressing soothing kisses against her hair and forehead and murmuring comfort whenever the storm crashed. The deep, familiar reverb of her father’s voice drowned out the weather even as the rain battered the apartment walls.

* * *

Molly met James and Mrs. Hudson on their way up the stairs with the tea. Half-way up, Mrs. Hudson realized she’d forgotten biscuits, which Molly assured her they had in the apartment. With James still totting the tea service, the housekeeper steered them into the kitchen to grab the biscuits on the way. Molly directed her to the proper cabinet and went to go hang up her things.

The pathologist paused a moment as she stepped into the living room. her eyes locked with her husband’s for a moment before his attention returned to distracting their frightened daughter. Molly’s smile was half loving, half rueful as she walked over to stand next to Sherlock as he held Chloe. The detective didn’t release the girl, opting to lean his head against Molly’s hip, her hand automatically moving to card her fingers through the black curls.

Hearing her mother's voice, Chloe peeked out of her refuge. The woman offered a reassuring smile and stroked the girl's hair with her other hand.

“It was so busy, I didn’t even think about the storm.”

Sherlock gently bumped her hip. “James was here, she wasn’t alone.”

Molly nodded absently, though he didn’t see it, and quickly scooted out of the way as Mrs. Hudson and James brought the tea in. The older woman clucked gently at Chloe, her soft “poor dear!” earning a faint smile from the girl. James hesitated for a moment but Molly was on the ball and ushered him back to his place on the couch. She watched her daughter bump her foot against the boy's knee, getting him to rest his hand on her leg for additional comfort.

For Chloe, it became easier to ignore the sounds she hated outside, with good tea and better company, and when she closed her eyes, her father’s heartbeat filling all the spaces in between.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for stopping by, I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to drop a comment, I'd love to hear from you!


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